Convalescence
by Ahn-Li Steffraini
Summary: Missing scene from the EDA "Genocide". I felt it needed more whump/comfort. Because Eight doesn't see enough of a whumper's touch ;)
1. Prolog

**Genocide Post Script: Convalescence**

by Ahn-Li Steffraini

**Summary**: Missing scene from the EDA "Genocide". I felt it needed more whump/comfort. Because Eight doesn't see enough of a whumper's touch ;)

**Author's Note**: In case you missed it - I'm a whumper. My favourite two are Eight & Ten and Eight never sees enough of a whumper's touch even though he's been enough of the same tough spots as Ten has. Time to fix that...

**Characters**: The Doctor (8th), Samantha Jones, TARDIS, and totally random dose of our favourite five at Torchwood Three... because where else would the TARDIS take him but to Jack?... and eventually as many Time Lords as a Pre-Time War Gallifrey can possibly fit.

* * *

The celebration was winding down.

Samantha Jones looked the Doctor up and down. He wasn't saying anything, then again... he never did... but she knew he was also winding down with it. She had dragged him outside so that he wouldn't be pulled into the emotional quagmire that he had been ready to throw himself into. He was a funny sort of alien that way. So emotional, so human but yet not.

He had also been through too much recently.

Mauvril had starved him almost to the point of death, perhaps even past it. All that had kept him alive in those months and months without food had been a intervenous drip and his own reserves.

* * *

He didn't like to dwell on that. He knew that Samantha was worried about him. He could sense it and see it in her eyes. In truth, his strength and reserves were already way past their breaking point and he was quite literally... what was that Earth term? Oh yes... running on fumes. Perhaps even less. Determination?

Likely.

He could see the edges of his vision already starting to swim, and his body was screaming for sustenance although it was also rebelling at the mere mention of food. It was that odd dictonomy that happened when the body was starved to the point of eating itself where he wanted to eat but knew that if he did he wouldn't be able to handle it.

Not to mention the inadvertent blood loss, which he was being alarmingly reminded off as another dizzy spell swept over his senses, from when he had ripped out the IV to escape Mauvril when she finally decided to kill him.

She had no idea just how close she had actually come.

His vision swam again, and he was dimly aware of Samantha calling his name, and the cold, hard concrete of a bench as he sat on it. It was much too hard on his less than padded behind - not something he had overly worried about before... not that this incarnation had much padding to speak of... but the bony shock of the cold that shot up and through his bones brought him back around with a gasp.

Samantha was looking at him in a mix of shock and horrified concern. Well, that was new. Was he that bad off? "M'fine," he managed to mumble, then cleared his throat for a second attempt. "Sam... Sam... I'm fine although... perhaps we should retire to the TARDIS for the time being?"

She nodded her agreement. "Yeah, we should."

He had to let her help him up and then he unsteadily, and using her to prop himself up far more than he felt comfortable with, they slowly made their way back to the Baron's Residence and into the closet where he had landed the TARDIS and entered it.

As the soothing hum of his time ship washed over the Doctor, he took a breath and found a bit of a second wind. He moved the ship into the Vortex...

* * *

Sam watched as he gently removed her hand from his arm and then walked up the TARDIS console, pressed a few of the buttons. The familiar sound of the dematerialization sequence started and she smiled. He would be just fine...

... and then she jumped forward to prevent his head from connecting with the unforgiving floor of the console room.

The Doctor was dead weight in her arms, practically boneless. She rolled him over, lifted his eyelids... no response. Well, there was just enough to thankfully confirm that he wasn't dead, but there was no conscious response. Just reflex to the change in light. Sam moved over the chair and grabbed the cushions that weren't sewn onto it and the throw that was often draped over it.

When she came back over, the Doctor hadn't moved other than to simply breathe. Sam put a cushion under his head and neck, and then wrapped him in the blanket. Two basic things she had learned in first aid to prevent shock. Although, she wasn't sure if it applied to the two-hearted alien but she supposed it couldn't hurt.

She looked at the console and said, "Look, I know you're probably a machine for all the time he talks to you but there have been times I swear you listen, like you actually can hear us... like you can actually respond. I might be crazy... but... if I'm not then _please_ take us somewhere that will help him."

Sam didn't know what she was expecting. Machines didn't do anything other than what the owner or pilot or operator or whatever told them to do. If the necessary voice print wasn't on record she knew she was pretty much screwed until the Doctor recovered enough to give the necessary commands... or teach her how. And she couldn't even speak Gallifreyan.

She didn't expect the Time Rotor to change the slow movement that meant it was in a holding pattern in the Vortex and start moving in earnest... nor did she expect the engines to change pitch. Sam let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

"No way," she murmured.

The TARDIS had not only heard her, and then understood her... but then... without the Doctor's say so... decided on her own to listen and then do something about it. Sam didn't know whether to laugh or cry but what she did know was that she was never, ever, taking the old time ship for granted again. The only question remained was where the TARDIS felt the Doctor needed to go now for help.


	2. Chapter One

**CHAPTER ONE**

Jack Harkness had been swamped in paperwork, and, while Ianto was helping lift that burden of monotony that life had turned into since he had returned from the Year that Never Was, Jack had to admit that a little action would be welcome.

He didn't expect to hear the sound of the TARDIS again so soon in the Plas. Ianto looked up. "What the hell is that?" asked Owen came up from the medical bay, his choice of language surprisingly mild.

Jack was halfway up on the elevator and already smiling. "A friend... maybe I might get him to finally visit..."

The minute the hidden elevator had stopped Jack looked around and found the TARDIS clear across the Plas. It looked almost the same as he remembered, but a few of the details were... well... not quite the same. He blinked trying to figure out just what wasn't the same but found he couldn't put his finger on it. It wasn't in its usual place for a recharging stop... but a bit farther and out of the way. Jack put his hand on the wood and greeted, "Hello, old girl..."

The feel wasn't quite the same either. Oh, it was her, of that he could feel, but there was something else not quite the same. And... no sign of the Doctor. He took out his key and went to put it in the lock.

Okay.

This was new... the facade of the normal lock slid away to reveal a very different and alien looking lock that was more fitting with the nature of the time ship itself. Jack was momentarily confused, but stuck the plain key he had into the lock and was surprised when it changed to match the lock. No actual turn of the key needed, more like a cross between one of those new credit sticks and a thumb print.

He pushed open the doors and walked in.

Jack had to stop dead as he looked around. "Holy shit," he murmured as he looked up... and up... and around.

This console room was huge, and looked... different. Gone was the slap dash repair work and coral struts. In its place was an almost steampunk affair with a massive, almost gothic but kind of not, library study surrounding it. He blinked and called, "Doctor?"

Then saw the young woman cradling the man in her arms, tears in her eyes. "Please, help him..." she begged. "He's sick... weakened. I don't know what to do. I asked the TARDIS to take us somewhere to help and she... well... you're here."

Jack ran over and knelt quickly by the man, feeling for a pulse and checking his breathing. Normal for a Time Lord. He then looked at this particular Time Lord. The Time Lord was a handsome man, hair a shade lighter than the latest Doctor Jack remembered, almost as tall although he couldn't be sure with him horizontal instead of vertical. Long hair. It was the clothing that threw him - the coat and cravat - very turn of the century. As in the twentieth century, not the twenty first. He looked like an extra from Interview with a Vampire or... something... failing to find another way to describe it. "Is this the Doctor?" asked Jack.

"Yes," answered the girl. "He was tortured by... well... never mind, it's not important now. What's important was that he was starved past the point of death, kept alive by only an IV... which he had to rip out to escape when his captors decided to finally kill him. Between the starvation and the blood loss, he's so weak and ill..."

Jack lifted him like he would a child and was a bit alarmed to feel the emancipated thinness and too little weight. He thought a moment and then decided that the TARDIS infirmiary would be a bit past Owen's capability and familiarity. "Come on, Torchwood has a perfectly good medical suite, if small, and old friends are welcome in it."

* * *

The other four watched as Jack swept in, almost not even waiting for the elevator to stop moving before he invaded Owen's private space. Not the autopsy room, but the medical suite for living patients. Owen followed him in as Jack laid down the man, and then pushed him out of the way, ignoring his protests. "Move Jack, you brought him here now let me do my job," he ordered and was pleased when Jack did as he was told.

The girl caught up with them and they both watched anxiously as Owen, with professional and brisk movements, stripped their alien friend of his clothes and then, with Jack's help, dressed him in a modest but soft sleeping gown before pulling up a sheet and blanket to the man's chest. Owen checked his vitals. Then checked them again. He looked up at Jack. "What the fuck is this?"

"He is a friend of mine," corrected Jack.

"An alien?" asked Gwen.

"Yes... he is... where I come from aliens aren't always a bad thing. They're like having visitors from other countries. Yes, they look different and their culture may be funny, but they're people too," answered Jack, mildly exasperated. "Torchwood's job is to root out alien threats... not create them where there are none. I know this particular alien personally and I have seen him save this Earth with great risk to himself over and over and over again and often with no word of thanks before he takes off again. I think it makes him uncomfortable."

"It does," confirmed the girl. "He hates the attention but always ends up where and when he's needed."

Gwen put her hands on the shoulders of the girl. "Are you?"

"No, I'm from Earth - England no less... London..." answered the girl. "My name is Samantha Jones."

Jack snorted at this. Trust the Doctor to find another Jones to run with. "Well, Ms. Jones, welcome to Cardiff," answered Gwen.

"Just Sam is fine," she said. "Will he be okay?"

Owen looked up from his examination. "Well, I'm no expert on his physiology, but going from what I know I can say he's been tortured - like Jack said - and starved to death to the point where his own body was cannibalizing itself for sustenance. I can also see where the original IV was ripped out. I'll bandage that up. I'm going to have to run another IV and likely an NG feeding tube."

Jack felt sick. For the Doctor to need that much invasive care to bring him back was horrifying. Not even his time with the Master during the Year that Never Was had been so bad. "Owen..." asked Ianto, seeing his lover's discomfort. "Considering how he was tortured do you think that's the right choice?"

"He hasn't got a snowball's chance in hell of pulling through if I fucking don't," answered Owen, then caught Sam's and Jack's concerned looks. He sighed. "Okay, tell you what I'm going to do. I'll sedate him while I do it so he doesn't come around for awhile. The sleep will do him good too. He needs bedrest, fluids, and loads and loads of nutrients. While I'm doing the invasive rehabilitation I'll keep him lightly to moderately sedated, depending on how he reacts to all this, so he's not connecting with what we're doing to what was already done to him."

Jack nodded. "Do it,Owen."

"You may not want to be in here while I do this," said Owen, as he prepared the sedative. "Any drug allergies I should know about?"

"Aspirin," said Jack. "Do not give him anything derived from it or its chemical compound. It's deadly to him."

"He's not allergic to morphine or that family of drugs," said Sam. "Has no issue with opiates."

"Okay, so not asking how we found that one out, but thanks for the info," said Jack, lifting a brow.

Owen snorted and rolled the Doctor over as he injected the sedative into the Doctor. Moments later, a tension left the Doctor's face that they hadn't noticed before and he relaxed subtly. Owen waited a few moments before nodding. "There... he's really, really asleep now. Go on, get out of here and let me do my work."

Jack led Sam out as the other three followed. He could see the questions in their faces, but they didn't ask. Jack paced the entire half hour until Owen came out and said, "You can see him if you want to. I've hooked him up to some monitors. Managed to program the heart monitor to not assume he's crashing. Since you know what he is, maybe you can tell Tosh what to look for when she hacks UNIT to see if they've got anything on his species."

"He's a Time Lord," answered Sam honestly. "His name, as far as anyone knows, is simply the Doctor."

Ianto jumped at this, as he looked at Jack in shock. "He's who?"

Tosh also looked a bit surprised, but she was already head down and into her computer. Owen asked, "What kind of a name is that? And what the fuck is a Time Lord?"

Ianto pulled Jack over and there was a short conversation between the two, and then Jack kissed Ianto. Presumably to prevent any feelings of jealousy. Tosh sat up straight. "Okay, here's what UNIT has... mind you I had to be in and out quick before they realized I was there... Time Lord... a species that can traverse both time and space in a ship sometimes called a TARDIS. The Doctor - one time consultant in the seventies that proved indispensable and valuable during numerous crises, including numerous encounters with a renegade Time Lord known only as the Master. The last known contact with the Doctor was in the mid nineties when... well... his appearance matches the fellow you just brought in here. He was never seen again until... oh... that incident... the one where Dowling was blown up with the Slitheen. Again... he saved the day... and again at Christmas with the Sycorax, even though he was clearly just recovering from something himself. Jack... he's a hero... numerous accolades, all politely declined unless forced on him. From the seventies on, UNIT has always had a special call sign - called the Code Nine - that related to him or any suspected appearances of him."

Gwen looked from Jack, to Ianto, to Owen who blew out a breath with his lips and stalked back into the medical bay to check on his patient. Jack followed, leaving a stunned Ianto behind as he took in the information he had just learned.

Jack stepped into the room. He had a sinking feeling that this Doctor had never met him yet. Then again, perhaps he had and he was a later incarnation. They had no way to know until he woke up enough to ask. "How is he?" asked Jack.

"Well, a bit better. It will still take days for him to recover enough to lose the NG tube and IV, and then he'll likely be on mushy soft food for about a week until he can handle some bland solid food," answered Owen. "And, like I said, he needs to sleep undisturbed for as much as possible. I won't lie to you - if it were anyone else I suspect they'd be dead. But, seeing as we have a bloody national hero, I'm not about to let that happen on my watch. He'll be too sick to leave this bed for awhile."

Jack sat down and laid a hand on the Doctor's uninjured arm. Sam followed a short time after. "He looks even smaller."

"Yeah," agreed Jack.

The Doctor didn't move. Didn't even so much as bat an eyelash. Jack supposed that was the sedative holding him underneath its crushing weight of forced sleep. Then again, maybe the sedative was only encouraging what his exhausted body so desperately craved but had been in too much pain and discomfort to grant. Now that the sedative, which also mercifully had a very strong painkilling property, had been given he could just sleep and rest until he was slept out.

Jack felt like he could watch him and make sure he did only that. He looked over at Sam where, now that she could see that the Doctor was safe and likely to recover, she looked positively like she too could sleep for a week. "Go tell Gwen that I sent you to her. Go get some rest kid," said Jack, patting the Doctor's arm. "I'll watch over him for now."

She hesitated. Jack finally remembered to ask, "So, the TARDIS brought him here."

"I was surprised she didn't take us to Gallifrey. I was so sure that was where we were going," said Sam. "But I'm glad it's Earth."

Jack blinked. _Wait, what?_ He blinked again. "Gallifrey... that's his home planet isn't it?" asked Jack carefully.

"Yeah..." Sam dragged that out. "He gets missives every so often from there. In fact, the Time Lords sent him to investigate this and then... and then this happened."

Jack felt the shock filter in. Oh... oh no way this was happening. If it was it was a crossed Time Stream of the worst possible kind. "So... you're saying there are others?"

"Yeah, why?" asked Sam.

Jack shook his head. This wasn't his Doctor... either of them... this was an earlier incarnation. A pre-Time War Doctor. _Oh shit_, ran through Jack's mind. _So not good. So... so not fucking good at all_... He forced himself to smile and laugh. "Yeah, how like them... ask him to do something and then leave him to hang. Anyway... you go get some rest."

Sam left and Jack blew out a breath. When the Doctor was recovered enough to wake up, he'd have to talk to Owen about making sure he was left just sedated enough to sleep through being transferred back to the TARDIS so that he'd never know he'd been in Cardiff.

A low moan startled him out of his thoughts and Jack turned to the Doctor, saw as something crossed his sleeping face that disturbed him, and then passed as the pinched expression eased and he slid back into what Jack hoped was dreamless oblivion.

Now what the hell was he supposed to do?

* * *

Hours of watching the Doctor simply sleep gave Jack the time to simply think. Sam said that the TARDIS brought them here when she asked for her to bring him someplace safe, someplace that would help him.

So the TARDIS did.

Jack knew the TARDIS. Well, as well as anyone could know a sentient telepathic machine that could traverse time and space using the Vortex. In many ways, so he theorized - and Jack could freely admit that he was no expert - the TARDIS resided outside of normal space at all times, perhaps even normal time. In essence, she wasn't a ship per se but perhaps a... okay... it baffled him but he theorized that somehow she resided in all points of time and space and therefore knew all things somehow. Or something. He didn't know and he was pulling at straws.

What he did know is that the TARDIS never did anything without a purpose, even if the Doctor himself didn't know why she did.

Therefore, if the TARDIS brought him here the crossed Time Stream was less of an issue than whatever this issue was bound to bring up and she truly believed that Jack, and his team, were the ones to aid him.

But why?

Jack decided to let things ride. The more he thought about it the more it gave him a massive headache. He didn't have the senses or the ability to track time as his alien friend did, or the rest of his not-so-dead after all race.

Jack rubbed a hand when the lights came up from Ianto entering the Hub for the morning and the smell of his coffee filled the air. As if to prove how bad off the Doctor truly was, the Time Lord didn't even twitch as the tantalizing aroma reached them. Jack knew knew from experience that the Doctor had a better nose, so if Jack could smell it so could he, even in sleep, but he was simply too sick and exhausted to flick an eye or twitch his nose in response.

With a sigh, Jack got up from his vigil and went out to seek his cup of coffee just as Ianto was bringing it to him. "How is he?" asked Ianto in a soft voice.

"Still out for the count," answered Jack. "Didn't even bat an eyelash when the aroma of your heavenly coffee invaded the room. Going off of that, I think he's going to sleep for a long while yet."

"Owen was certainly concerned that his recovery could be protracted," mentioned Ianto. "He may be a guest of ours for quite some time. Will this present a problem for us?"

"I...don't think so," answered Jack. "Why?"

"If anyone from UNIT spots that TARDIS in the Plas we could be asked questions," answered Ianto. "Given our reputation..."

"I get you," answered Jack. "All right. If they spot it and if they ask, don't hide the fact that he's here but advise them that he came to us. Ask for a liaison. Just one. No others."

Ianto nodded. "But only if they spot it," specified Jack as he went up to his office.

He loaded his computer and checked his email. With a curse, he realized that Ianto had a reason for asking. UNIT had already spotted the TARDIS and, given the proximity to the Cardiff Hub, was asking politely if the Doctor had been spotted, and yes, they did know Torchwood knew who and what the Doctor was. Jack sighed and sent an email back, equally politely but pointedly stating what he had told Ianto his position was.

Less than a minute later, his phone rang.

Jack rubbed his hand down his face and answered the phone on the fifth ring. "Harkness."

"Director, I understand that the Doctor is... visiting... your compound. Could you elaborate?" asked the man on the other end, the voice was not one he recognized.

"That depends..."

There was a sound of long suffering patience on the other end. "On what?"

"Well, it appears that you know my name but you've yet to introduce yourself."

"Fair enough, Director, my name is... Yates..." answered the man.

"With a hesitation like that, you expect me to believe you?"

"Look, Harkness, my name is Yates... it's just that I don't hold the rank I used to. But I do know the Doctor. Personally. I think you and I have that as something in common."

Jack wasn't someone who took things at face value, but there was something to what this Yates said. "I thought this was UNIT."

"UNIT knows, a close friend of mine has methods of sometimes seeing what's going on in there, and this caught her attention. She is also a friend of the Doctor's. The question is... is Torchwood?"

"This one is," answered Jack. "Which means that if this is in any means a trick to get at him, you'll have to go through me."

There was a very amiable chuckle on the other end. "I think we do share something in common, Jack. There's a lovely older... well... not too old... lady outside your tourist center on the dock. Her name is Jo. She, like me, used to be UNIT. Not that there's anything wrong with UNIT, but we've a more personal stake... something tells me he's not well or he'd be talking for himself. Or he's your prisoner at which point I'd hate to be the one to warn you of consequences."

"Now I know you're another friend of his," groaned Jack. "No, no, he's not a prisoner. You were right on the first count. It's best if you see. And like I said, you make one wrong move and you'll have to go through me."

"Agreed."

The man hung up the phone and Jack went outside of his office. "Ianto... oh... hi Tosh, everyone... I gather you heard all that?"


	3. Chapter Two

**CHAPTER TWO**

Not a half hour later, everyone was seated in the Torchwood conference room. There were three from UNIT, one outright liaison, which Jack was very relieved to note was Dr. Martha Jones, and the two ex-UNIT people, who were a former Captain Mike Yates and Josephine Grant, whose actual attachment to UNIT was rather unclear.

Jo ran and hugged Samantha and then looked at her. "When is it for you?"

"Right after the Tractis affair..." said Samantha quietly. "How long has it been since then for you?"

Jo sucked in a breath. "Years and years, dear. A decade? Oh. Oh no... he wasn't as well as he was putting on was he?"

Sam shook her head.

In the meantime, Martha was trading knowledge with Owen and Jack, and when they were done filling her in she had compressed her lips into a thin line. "I think you had best show me," she said simply, and at Jack's nod, Owen led her into the medical suite.

Martha gasped as she checked over all the readouts, and touched the Doctor's cheek. Given what she had been told and what she saw of his condition she was not surprised in the least by the lack of a response. Owen watched for a moment and said, "I gave him a really heavy dose of Morphine with a bit of demerol. The UNIT notes said that he's susceptible to both, but in a strange way. As in both... at once. One or the other will only make him groggy and I wanted him out for this. He needs the rest, and he could get a bit panicky if he wakes up and finds himself back in almost the same position as what got him here in the first place."

What was left unsaid was: _Even if he's _not_ in the same position_. The Doctor was deathly ill from the torture and starvation, as well as the injuries afterwards. The tears in his arm were beginning to fester from where the other IVs from Mauvril had been brutally yanked out. "These need to be cleaned out or he'll have blood poisoning. In fact," she felt his forehead, "he's already showing signs of fever."

Owen nodded, and then sighed. "What the fuck are we supposed to give him? I can't give him anything Aspirin derived as he's anaphylatically allergic to it, and certain other things will make him ill to the point of death. Just what can we give him outside of Morphine and Demerol to fight an infection?"

Martha shook her head. "The only thing I can think of is simply to fight the symptoms, but let his body fight the infection. Keep the arm cleaned and freshly dressed. He isn't allergic to topical antiseptic agents. I have no idea what is safe and what isn't safe to give him by way of intervenous or even ingested ones."

"Would there be some sort of record or hint in the medical bay of his ship?" asked Owen.

Martha blinked. "There could be - it would, however, be written in his language unless the TARDIS feels particularly generous and leaves us a translated version. There is no harm in looking."

Owen gestured and she followed him out. "Jack, Owen and I are going to the TARDIS."

"Whoa, wait a minute... the TARDIS isn't the one you remember and there is something I really need to tell you first... and Owen has never been on it." Jack pulled them aside and looked at Martha. "It isn't the same Doctor, Martha."

"I saw that... when did he regenerate?" she asked, rolling her eyes.

"He hasn't. Not yet." Jack said this evenly, as Owen looked from one to the other. Jack could see the _what the fuck_ already forming on Owen's lips and he lifted a hand to stall him. Martha looked at him quizzically. "The TARDIS didn't take him to Gallifrey, she brought him here instead... as in there is..."

Martha wasn't stupid, and she caught on. Her eyes widened in shock. "... As in there is a Gallifrey to go back to. Holy shit, Jack, that means he doesn't even know us yet."

"What the fuck, Jack?" asked Owen, a bit confused.

"He's a Time Lord, remember? As in, the man travels in time. Sometimes you don't meet him again in the same order as you last left him. He's isn't linear like us," explained Jack. "This one hasn't met us yet, but we've met him much later in his life."

"Oh fuck me, are you kidding?" asked Owen in disbelief and then saw the dead serious look on Jack's face. "You aren't kidding me. Holy great flying mother of..."

"Is that why he's so sedated?" asked Martha. "Not only to help him heal and sleep himself out, but also to make sure he doesn't remember any of this?"

"Holy great flying..." came Owen's voice again.

"Yes and no," answered Jack. "Partly, but not all of it. I'm pretty sure given the fact that he is used to a non-linear time line style life, Martha, that this would just roll off him like water on his back. Anyway, that's not why I drew the two of you aside. The TARDIS, understandably, is different on the inside. I guess with proper parts from his homeworld it means that the TARDIS will be kept vastly differently that we're both used to, but I mean it's seriously different. As is absolutely amazingly, mindblowing different. It's huge in the console room. You'd get lost and I can't even see the outside edges... and it's just the console room. Keep that in mind. And the keyhole... well, you'll see. Go on, find if there is anything that can help him in that ship of his. Owen, go with her. Two sets of eyes are better than one."

* * *

Everything was a warm shade of pink... or was this more a peach with a black tinge? He wasn't sure. He felt as if he was floating, but also not really floating. More like he just couldn't respond. He could hear himself murmur, and there were answering voices, but he couldn't make out what anyone was saying. Some of the voices seemed awfully familiar, and others didn't.

It was then he realized that the peach tinged black colour was actually the inside of his eyelids and that his eyes were closed. He wasn't sure what the word was for the state he was in where everything was sort of out of reach, and he was just aware enough to know this... and not really care.

The set of voices seemed to move closer, and he could pick out pieces here and there.

"Doctor?"

Did they want him or were they asking for a doctor to come see him?

"... hear me, Doctor?"

Everything faded, and he drifted away from the peachy black world and the voices. He wasn't sure how long he slept but when he came back to the peachy black there weren't voices, and it was more black and dark. He blinked, wondering when the simple act of opening his eyes had become so difficult and when the weights had been attached. He was in a medical suite, and it appeared to be early 21st century Earth. A hospital? No, not a hospital... unless he was in the basement. Had he died again? Poor... poor... who had been with him? He tried to think through the molasses that his neurons were determined to be, but couldn't come up with a name, but he was rather proud that he could remember her face at least.

He tried to move his arm, and found that it weighed as much as his eyelids had, and he looked down and saw the IV running into his arm. For a moment, he had to fight the panic, and then was about to remove it when he saw he had another IV in his other arm and a tube going under the blanket... oh... that was embarrassing... but at least he now knew he hadn't died or if he had he had come back to someplace that understood he'd be sick after a regeneration and had taken steps. If it was on Earth, that meant UNIT and friends. Relief flooded him and he finally managed to lift a hand to brush it across his face... only to notice that there was a tube in his nose (an NG feeding tube? Someone had gone through _alot_ of bother to care for him!) and an oxygen mask on his face.

So, he hadn't died and regenerated - he wouldn't be this sick if he had - but was extremely ill.

Sam must have been worried and desperate... Samantha Jones! He was relieved to have remembered his latest companion's name as well as connect her with being with him.

Mauvril. Josephine Grant. The tree that was an abomination of time.

Fainting during the celebrations... he remembered getting to the TARDIS and piloting her into the Vortex which was when things faded again. The TARDIS must have brought him here, then.

He was exhausted and... more than slightly numb and groggy. The exhaustion and weakness he knew was to be expected, but the numb floaty feeling and the muzzy disconnection, and the grogginess; that meant he had been sedated and was still under the tail end of their effects. Samantha had likely told him that he had been tortured and how he had been kept compliant by Mauvril through starvation and the IV to just barely keep him alive. The UNIT doctors had then, logically, felt that the only way to nurse him back to health was to sedate him and feed him through the tubes until his body started to bounce back. He would have done the same out of fear of the patient panicking from finding themselves in nearly the same predicament that had made them so ill in the first place.

The lack of daylight meant that it was late at night when they fully expected him to sleep through the night on the sedation and exhaustion from being so ill. However, one of those had run their course and now he was waking up, even if the process was slow, sluggish and like trying to push through pudding.

He was in no hurry to go anywhere, however. If this was UNIT, then he was safe for the moment and able to let his body recover its strength and simply recuperate. However, if he just lay here, he was going to go figuratively insane from boredom.

Irony had it that he didn't have to worry about that. He was in the middle of counting the curious amount of studs in the ceiling when what sedation was left in his system suddenly rebounded. It all but snuck up behind him and grabbed him, pulling him down into sleep before he realized what was happening. It simply seemed as if he had blinked once, and then he literally was out again. The sedation then tag-teamed with his exhaustion and kept him that way for hours.

All he knew was when he tried to open his eyes again, it was the same peachy black world and the same uphill battle into wakefulness. He lay there trying to reassemble his senses and neurons into something working and listened to what was going on around him.

"Owen, he's waking up," came a woman's voice.

He heard someone move, and then a rather rude expletive came from a young man, presumably this 'Owen'. "You didn't tell me he'd metabolize the morphine and demerol that quickly," finished Owen.

_Heady mixture_, mused the Doctor. _No wonder I can't hold on to my brain cells and make them behave_.

The laughter from the two made him suddenly realize that he had voiced that thought. "Can you open your eyes, Doctor?" asked the young woman with a Londoner accent.

He struggled, and then opened them a crack. The lights were bright and he blinked as he tried to focus on their faces. All he could see was a blurry outline of a young black woman with hair that was tied back. "Where'm I?" he asked.

"Safe, Doctor, safe... how are you feeling?"

"Tired. Floaty... feel heavy..." he answered sleepily, and just about as slurred as his first statement had been.

"You've been very ill; the heaviness you feel is the weakness from that. But you're doing better. Do you remember what happened to land you here?" asked Owen.

"Tortured by starvation... kept alive by an intervenous," he answered. "...so tired..."

"You can go back to sleep in a moment," came the young woman's voice. "Do you know where you are?"

"UNIT?" he asked uncertainly.

There was a smile in her voice. "Yes, I'm with UNIT," she answered. "Do you know when you are?"

"Early 21st century," he answered. "I think. Why?"

"Okay, Owen, he's at least aware of where and when he is," the young woman answered, and he felt her pat him on his shoulder. "Go back to sleep, Doctor."

She didn't need to tell him twice and he let go, finding the whole experience simply too exhausting. The inky darkness of sleep was simply too inviting and everything else just faded away to nothing.

* * *

Jack watched from the upper level of the medical suite as the Doctor fell back to sleep between one breath and another. Owen looked up, and disposed of the syringe. "He should sleep for another twenty four hours or so. According to what we found on his ship these drugs are considered heavy for his own race."

"How is he doing?"

"Well, so far he's been steadily improving. He's bouncing back quicker than a human, but I'd say he still has a long road ahead of him yet. The fever from the blood infection has wore him out, and he's still very sick from that and from the starvation." Owen checked over the Doctor again before he nodded to Martha and left the room, lowering the lights as he did so so the Doctor could sleep comfortably.

Sam came into the hub behind Gwen and noticed the two doctors leaving the Doctor's room. "He's doing well, Sam, he was awake for a bit but he's sleeping now," said Martha.

Sam looked in on him. He was turned slightly on his side, facing away from the door and she could see his chest rise and fall as he breathed while held deeply in the grip of sleep. She smiled and went back to sit down on the couch. "He seems better." She looked up at his two doctors. "How long do you think he'll take to get better?"

"Well, a bit quicker than we originally thought, but he still has at least a few weeks of bed rest ahead of him," answered Martha.

* * *

Over the next few days, the pattern was the same. The Doctor would wake for a few minutes every time the drugs keeping him comfortable would metabolize enough to let him, but the two human doctors were always there. They would ask him questions about how he was feeling, which he knew was to gauge how quickly he was recovering. He knew when the first week had passed and was alarmed at how long it was taking his body to recover and just how sick he was.

Finally, about a week into this he finally said, "You may have to call for aid from Gallifrey. I think I may need another Time Lord here, or even to be taken home."

Dr. Jones looked up at him in surprise. "Oh?"

"Yes... I'm not recovering as quickly as I should be. You've done the best you could but I think we need outside help," he sighed. "I was rather hoping not to head back to Gallifrey or to have to bring another Time Lord into this."

"What would happen if you did?" asked Martha.

"No idea. I know that if I go back to Gallifrey that Sam will likely have to stay on Earth and I'm not one hundred percent sure if this is her home time period or exactly when I found her. Unfortunately aliens are not always welcome on Gallifrey and with me laid up I will not be able to speak for her to be brought with me. If they come here it could make things rather tense," he answered tiredly, already yawning with the effort of the conversation.

Much as Martha loved this regeneration's accent, she knew he needed his rest and talking wasn't resting. "If we happen to need to, how would we contact them?"

"There's a mauve switch on the console right by where the handle to open the door is. All you need to do is flip the switch," answered the Doctor, his eyes slowly closing. "If the Time Lords recall the TARDIS you will be taken back to Gallifrey and given the opportunity to explain why the distress signal was sent. If the TARDIS isn't recalled then they will trace the signal and arrive here."

He finally fell back to sleep again. Martha stood up and turned to Jack. "I'm going to the TARDIS. If it takes off, don't panic. I should be right back."

"Where are you going?" asked Jack, surprised.

"Gallifrey."


	4. Chapter Three

**CHAPTER THREE**

Martha stood in front of the console, and in front of the switch in question. It was the only mauve switch on the entire console and easy to find. She stepped up and then uncovered the switch before flipping it with a decisive snap. "Okay, old girl. It's up to you... and them... now."

A few moments later a voice came through a speaker on the console. Unfortunately it wasn't in a language she could understand. She looked around in confusion not seeing a microphone with which to respond. "I wish I could understand you..." she began. "The Doctor is really sick. He needs help... the kind that can only come from home. We don't know what to do to help him. I don't know if you can understand me or not, but if you can please follow the signal and send us help."

"Acknowledged," came the answer. "We are sending assistance. Please stand by."

Martha's eyes widened at the response back in English, but she answered back, "Thank you!"

A short moment later the doors to the TARDIS opened and three people stood there. One wore long, ornate robes in rich oranges, while the other two clearly had the look of guards written all over them. "You sent the signal?" asked the woman in robes.

"I did," answered Martha. "My name is Dr. Martha Jones... the Doctor's TARDIS brought him to us to help him but we're out of our depth."

"My name is Thalia," she answered, smiling. "Or... you may call me that. My actual name is a mouthful for humans and some of the syllables don't translate."

"Is that why the Doctor only ever calls himself the Doctor?" asked Martha.

"Partially, yes," answered Thalia, and then she gestured. "Is he in the infirmary?"

"No, we figured the tech in there would be over our heads – and it is – without the Doctor to guide us through it so we brought him to our medical suite in the Hub. He's recovered from the state of near death we found him in, but he isn't improving past where he is now," explained Martha as she turned them around and led them back to the Hub.

She looked around trying to find the other TARDIS but it was no where to be found, unless that odd plinth was it. Considering the presence of a few more guards like the first two and the two officers from UNIT... and Jack... she was guessing it was. She led Thalia and the two guards to the cloaked lift and they rode the lift down into the Hub. "Clever," murmured Thalia.

When the lift settled itself Martha led them to the Doctor's room where the two guards waited outside while Martha and Thalia stepped inside. Thalia wasted no time as she brought out a satchel and opened it four ways on the table to the side. First she scanned the Doctor, and her low hum of worry caught Martha's attention. She then put her hands on either side of the Doctor's head at the temples and closed her eyes for a few moments before opening them again. She looked at Martha and Martha could see the respect in the woman's eyes and she wondered just how bad the Doctor was as Thalia stepped past her and said to the two men, "Call up to our TARDIS and send for an antigrav stretcher and two IV bags of aridosa solution."

"Yes, my lady," he answered and Martha heard him call up in that language she couldn't understand now realizing it had to be Gallifreyan.

"How bad is he?" asked Martha.

"You're right, he's not recovering as well as he appeared to be at first. The infection in his system is slowly poisoning him. He regaining strength but also losing it. He's about to crest over the recovering and get extremely ill but I can stave it off long enough to get him back to Gallifrey where we can perform a full blood cleansing and put him into a sensory tank to recover," she answered. "I am sincerely glad you brought it to our attention for his sake. If he had crested completely he would have experienced a cascading organ failure and died."

Martha took a breath, shocked to her very core. "Oh my God," she murmured.

Owen came into the room on that last part and asked, "Naturally, since you're taking him, you'll not want us to come with him."

"Are you his friends?" asked Thalia.

Martha thought for a moment. "We are... but... not yet. Not in his time line. He hasn't even met us yet but a future him knows us quite well."

Thalia looked at them sideways. "Was he alone?"

"No, he was with a girl named Sam Jones. She's outside in the Hub waiting for word on his condition," answered Owen.

"Without a doubt she will be coming with us, considering she is in his current time line. However, I am confused on why the TARDIS would have willfully brought him to here if you're not in his time line yet," mused Thalia. "He now does, at this time, right?"

"Well, yes, he's been awake enough to interact," answered Martha.

"With how many of you, exactly?" asked Thalia.

"Owen and I mostly," answered Martha.

"Then you two may come. Meeting people a little out of order is a common issue with time travel, but considering you know the import of such events I believe you can be trusted to stay with him," she answered. "We will recall his TARDIS to Gallifrey. It won't hurt to have her looked over and given some proper maintenance while we see to the health of her pilot."

A younger man came running in, dressed similarly to Thalia only in deeper reds and more richer colour of orange. "This is what I could find," he stated.

"Very good, Nieven. Run back up to our TARDIS and tell dispatch to recall the Doctor's TARDIS to Gallifrey immediately." He immediately ran back out at her behest as two more guards came in with the antigrav stretcher between them. "Put it right beside the bed and we'll shift him to it."

Moments later, the Doctor was on the antigrav bed and tucked into it with some sort of field of energy over him. He was so still he didn't appear to be breathing. Owen noticed this. "I think he's gone into respiratory distress..."

"It's a stasis field," said Thalia simply. "We'll keep him in stasis until we reach our TARDIS and the infirmary to treat him more there."

Martha, Owen and Sam followed the Time Lords to the other TARDIS in time to see the familiar shape of the Doctor's TARDIS dematerialize from the Plas. She turned to Jack. "We'll be back."

"You'd better be," said Jack. "Tell me all about it when you get back."

"I will," answered Martha, knowing what Jack meant.

Martha would soon see what had only been described to her of a lost, dead world... she was going to Gallifrey. A part of her danced inside even as she hated the reason for this once in a lifetime opportunity.

As promised by Thalia, once the Doctor was moved to their medical bay and the bed secured the stasis field dropped and he stirred, blinking his eyes open. "TARDIS... but not mine..." he murmured as he looked around and his eyes finally fell on Thalia.

The change in his expression was immediate as he smiled – as much as his face and current energy level would allow – widely. "Thalia?"

"Hello again Doctor, I wish it were under better circumstances," she said as she looked him over. "But your condition is very serious – critically serious, I'm afraid."

"I was afraid of that," he mused and sighed. "What's in the IV?"

"Aridosa solution as a base, and I've given you Ulanda and a nutrient wash," she answered. "The humans have you on morphine. I'm amazed you are managing to string two words together."

"Hmm... so am I..." mused the Doctor. "That would explain why I feel positively numb and I'm having issues pushing thoughts through the custard my brain insists on being."

Thalia smiled warmly and patted him on his shoulder. "Then don't push yourself, old friend. Go back to sleep."

"Sam?" he asked, his voice already sounding like he was fading.

"I'm here, so is Martha and Owen," she answered.

"Oh..." he murmured, his eyes already fluttering as if he couldn't hold them open anymore. "'Kay..."

* * *

He trailed off as he lost the battle against the human morphine and the Gallfreyan ulanda. The trip to Gallifrey didn't take long as a few moments later there was a general announcement – in Gallifreyan – and the sound of the ship in flight quieted. Thalia brought the stasis field up again and the three humans followed the Gallifreyans out into a bustling hospital full of futuristic equipment. Like Earth, medical personnel wore mostly white. The Doctor was moved with great efficiency to a examination room where another Gallifreyan man looked him over, first scanning him with the same device as Thalia had and then taking blood samples.

The two spoke in low voices in the same lilting, but strangely sharp language full of strange double tones and consonants. Finally the Doctor was moved again, but this time they had to wait just outside in a small waiting area until Thalia came back in. "He's too far under to hear or understand us, but you can see him if you wish," she said as she led them to another room dominated by a tank where the Doctor lay suspended in the fluid.

A mask was secured tightly on his face although it was clear he had been intubated as well, the mask was to make sure fluid didn't interfere with the intubation. Two large bore IV's ran into his left arm – Martha and Owen looked at each other in shock but she supposed a Time Lord's vascular lay out was different. Another IV ran into his other arm and an NG feeding tube into his nose under the mask. He also had tubes running from other more personal areas, but thankfully someone had thought to cover his modesty with shorts that were like a second skin. The tubes appeared to attach through these shorts so Martha had a feeling they were less for modesty and more for the more personal matters someone too ill to get up from bed would eventually need. Sam touched the tank near where one of his hands floated and looked back at Thalia. "How long will be have to be in there?"

"At least a week," she answered. "His condition is listed as critical and in intensive care. We will reassess after a week."

"Out of curiousity... just how long is a week... or one of your days... or hours?" asked Martha knowing that it could be different.

"A Gallifreyan hour is not called such, we call them spans. A span is comprised of sixty small spans, which is equivalent to your seconds," answered Thalia. "Which means, basically, an hour on Gallifrey is the same as an hour on Earth."

"And a day is?" asked Martha.

"Thirty two of your hours," answered Thalia. "A week is six days, and our months are six of our weeks."

"And a year?" asked Sam.

"Given the length it takes for Gallifrey to circle its two suns, approximately one point five of your years, but in our reckoning also twelve months – our months, however." Thalia sighed. "Come on, you've all had a long day by your measure. I will show you to where you will stay as his personal guests while on Gallifrey. He has apartments that he never uses as he's very rarely here but they will serve for this purpose. I will also send for Andred and Leela. They are friends of the Doctor's and will help you get around. I, unfortunately, have duties I need to attend to most of the time but when I have some spare time I will also call on you to see how he is doing."

"Thank you," said Sam.

* * *

Owen tried to look in as many directions as he could. When Jack had offered him a job at Torchwood never in a million years did he think he would stand on another planet's surface and feel the touch of another sun... or in this case two suns. "Wow," he breathed when they walked out of the medical centre and realized that they were many stories above the ground.

Snow capped mountains gleamed in the distance through the clear glass of the massive dome that encased the city. Martha realized, with a sudden pang, that she was in the Citadel of the Time Lords and Gallifrey's main city. Her Doctor had described this place to both Jack and her right before the Year that Never Was fully was upon them. His words had failed to capture its true majesty and just how very huge it was.

But Thalia had not stopped walking so they hurried to catch up. After a few twists and turns, she stopped before a set of doors and pressed the chime. After a few moments the door opened and a young woman stood there. A short exchange later they were all brought into the apartments.

They were plainly, but elegantly, appointed. Someone here was very obviously rich and powerful within Gallifreyan society. Thankfully, the conversation had switched to English. "Madam Thalia, what a pleasant surprise," came a man's voice as he walked around the corner. "You've brought guests."

"Guests of your younger brother, actually, while he recovers in the medical centre," she answered.

He blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"Do forgive me, I had assumed you heard. The Doctor..." The other Time Lord suddenly looked worried, but he motioned for them all to come in and sit down, his hospitality given. "... he was injured and is very, very ill."

"What is his exact condition," he asked, and then turned to the humans. "Excuse my rudeness – I will make up for it momentarily."

"We understand, you're concerned for your brother," said Martha kindly.

"Thank you," he said.

Thalia answered, "Listed as critical. He is currently in intensive care – in a medical sensory tank and undergoing blood cleansing for a serious blood infection. They have medically induced a coma to make him comfortable and he is on life support."

The man paled and sat down heavily. "Great Rassilon."

"I had thought you already been informed..." said Thalia gently. "Otherwise I would have come to tell you myself before dropping here on your doorstep with his guests."

"No, no, it's best you did this now." He recovered and stood back up, finally facing the three humans. "Welcome to the city estates of House Lungbarrow. I am known as Irving Braxiatel and while you are here please consider these apartments your home. If you have need of anything please bring your concerns to me or to any one of the assistants within. Are all three of you travelling with my youngest brother?"

"Ah, no..." answered Thalia. "Samantha Jones – she prefers to be called Sam – is your brother's current Companion. Dr. Martha Jones is a former Companion... of a future incarnation of your brother. He has not met her yet outside of the care he has already received from her for the past week on Earth. Dr. Owen Harper is now one of his friends, but has never travelled off of Earth until now."

"I... see..." mused Braxiatel, and he then made a motion with his hand that Martha thought looked half like a one handed shrug and half like he was indicating the whole room. "Well, then, I suppose you all have had a trying enough day. I will have Baerila show you to your rooms and if you need anything, make sure she knows. I must attend to my duties and please forgive me for stepping out for awhile to do so."

* * *

Samantha seemed taken by the older man whose accent, once he spoke in English, seemed to have a similar sound and a similar accenting to the Doctor she knew. Martha found his accent similar to this particular Doctor's – at least what little she had heard from him sounded the same – as well but could also hear the slight lilt from the Gallifreyan accent that also added a certain tone to it. It was beguiling, almost hypnotic without meaning to be.

The three humans, and Thalia, followed Baerila to their rooms. The young Gallifreyan turned, and looked at Thalia in surprise. "Are you staying here as well, Lady Thalia?"

"No, I have my own apartment here in the Citadel. I am simply seeing them off as I am the one who brought them here, please see to it that if they need to find me that I am contacted," said Thalia.

"Of course," responded Baerila with a small nod of head.

Thalia turned to the three of them. "I truly must be off. The Time Lord High Council will want to know that the Lord... ah... the Doctor has returned to Gallifrey." She turned to look at Baerila. "They may get a visit from Flavia later, as well as Andred and Leela."

"All three are known to House Lungbarrow," confirmed Baerila. "And will be admitted should they appear at our door."

"Very good," said Thalia. "Well then, I will see all you sometime later. I can not say for sure when later, but I will see you off before you leave Gallifrey."

"Thank you, Lady Thalia," said Sam. "For everything."

Thalia reached out and grasped the young woman's bare hand in her gloved one. "Don't be ridiculous. I don't know what the Doctor tells you about us but when Gallifrey receives guests we treat them with the proper hospitality they are due."


	5. Chapter Four

**A/N:  
**Taking huge leaps of logic from scant little details from the TV series, the Audio series, the EDA's and trying to make sense of what outright contradicts into a cohesive whole here where it regards Gallifrey. Basically, this is how I did it: If it was shown during the TV series, it was truer than the rest. The next question was books or audio in precedence? Well, Paul McGann answered that himself in _Night of the Doctor_ when he named almost every Companion he had in the Audios, but not the books. So... Books are trumped by Audio, which are trumped by TV. The rest is simply my leaps of logic and may be canon but likely isn't unless I've guessed it correctly.

If anyone is wondering where I fact check, Google the "TARDIS Wikia". Fan ficcers best friend!

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Sam couldn't believe the view from the shared living area of the Lungbarrow estate within the Citadel. Once she had gotten over the initial understatement of the millenia – the Time Lords had a gift for understatement, who knew? – as when Thalia had said it was an apartment Sam was expecting something more along the line of a flat. A generous, high end loft style flat, but a flat.

The Lungbarrow estate in the Citadel was no less than five floors on the southern side of the central spire, and from what she could see, it was many stories above the garden like outside below, which was also many stories above the real ground level but even then it looked like there was an underside to the city as well, if the three dimensional map was to be believed. At the very top of the central spire was the Panopticon, which was where the all Time Lords met in council, and then above that was the much smaller Opticon which was where the Time Lord High Council – a Council of six Elder Time Lords – each representing one of the six Chapter Houses – the Lord President and one highly placed Gallifreyan civil servant. Above that was the Presidential Suites where the Lord, or Lady, President of Gallifrey lived while they were in office.

None of the names, even translated into something resembling English, were familiar to Sam except for Irving Braxiatel of House Lungbarrow and current Chapter Master of the Prydonian Chapter. Also, much to her surprise and shock another Lungbarrow was also the current Lord President of Gallifrey, but he was listed as "currently off planet" and a Lady Flavia as Acting President in his stead until his return. She turned to Baerila. "Where is the Lord President?" she asked and was rewarded with a most peculiar stare from the Gallifreyan.

"Ah..." Baerila paused to think, and Martha and Owen noticed her long pause. "He travels... has travelled but that is actually a bit behind with current events. He's..." She looked at the three of them sideways. "... He's recently returned."

She gave a small nod. "If you will excuse me I should see to your meal."

She then left as quietly as she had shown them to their rooms. Owen looked over at Martha. "She seemed to be in a sudden hurry to get out here."

"She was slightly shocked that we don't know who their President is, like it should have been obvious to us," mused Martha, who then looked at Sam. "Sam, see if you can look up who their President is on that thing."

"Sure," Sam answered as she turned back to the display. "Lord Theta of Lungbarrow, Lord President of Gallifrey and it's his second term. He was voted in before, but left before he could be formally sworn in but returned with the human Leela later and then was sworn in... but... wait a minute... didn't Braxiatel and Thalia say that Andred and Leela were the Doctor's friends?"

"They did," answered Owen, who then connected the dots at the same time as Martha. "No..."

"Keep reading Sam... I have an ugly feeling that the Lord President is in the medical centre," said Martha.

Sam kept reading and then she froze. "Oh my God, you're right. Lord President Theta of Lungbarrow is the Doctor."

Braxiatel entered their suites right behind Baerila and heard the tail end of the three human's conversation. "So Baerila was correct – you didn't know my brother is currently our Lord President."

"It's a bit of a surprise," admitted Sam.

"You don't say," was Braxiatel's dry response, but he then sighed. "Speaking of whom, I've been to see him."

"How is he?" asked Sam.

"I imagine that since you've last seen him his condition is unchanged, but for me..." Braxiatel was quiet for a long moment and they could all see how much his brother's condition worried him. "When he was younger he had a bout of illness as severe as this. He didn't recover from it until he regenerated. We honestly didn't think he could. Our parents wrapped him – figuratively – in wool padding and a bubble to the point I think he broke and needed to escape. Despite his continued illness he would find ways to escape the estate and live freely. I cannot count how many times I was sent out, with Koschei, to find him."

"Who's Koschei?" asked Owen.

Braxiatel thought for a moment but didn't answer, instead walking over the window and gazing out over the city and mountains beyond. "A childhood friend – my brother's school mate, if you will," answered Braxiatel. "Innocet and I were many years Theta's senior... almost adults... when Theta was born. Innocet is the oldest of us three and our sister. Koschei was fostered into our House from his father's Estate. An only child and his father spent too much time away at the Citadel or off world to really pay attention to the child."

"So he was taken away?" asked Martha, her brow furrowing.

"Oh no," Braxiatel answered as he turned back to them. "Fostering here has a different meaning. Children are fostered and sent away to Houses with children of the same age so that they can grow up a bit more socialized. Often they are sent in groups with children of other Houses and turns are taken. In Koschei's case, however, because of his mother's death at a very early age and the fact that his father was never home, he was often sent to us and spent more time with our House than his own and Thete was never really sent to Oakdown as often as the trading would have naturally occurred. When it was Oakdown's turn, so to speak, Lungbarrow simply took over instead. I think I could count on one hand how many times my little brother actually went to Oakdown when it was drawn before their time came to be sent to the Chapter Academy." Braxiatel thought a long moment. "Although... Theta was never fostered out. Mother felt he was too ill to be put to that risk unless it was Oakdown's turn as Koschei's father was a skilled physician and was, in fact, the one who saved his life in the first place."

Martha blinked as she realized what Braxiatel was inferring. "Are you saying that the Doctor nearly died as a child? That if not for one simple chance of Lord Oakdown being at Lungbarrow with Koschei that the Doctor would never have survived out of _childhood_?"

Braxiatel nodded somberly. "Yes." He turned back to the window. "Koschei and his father stayed all winter to make sure Thete pulled through."

"But he eventually recovered?" asked Sam. "He had to have... he's out there all the time now in the TARDIS."

"He eventually did, but he was very weak for years after," answered Braxiatel. "And prone to fits of illness and high fevers. His health never truly bounced back. Our parents were worried that the illness had affected his ability to learn and he seemed slow, and also feeble, compared to others his age." Braxiatel smiled. "But he wasn't... oh, he was feeble and weak – physically – but he was clever and quick of mind. He also didn't think like others. He couldn't. The others could rely on time tested methods that worked but Theta couldn't as his health wouldn't allow it... so he found ways around things and his mind began to come to instantaneous come up with ways around things. He was different but so brilliant." With a sigh Braxiatel walked back to the door. "His teachers didn't appreciate different so his grades were always just treading water enough to barely pass and his health held him back on that as well."

"Why did he leave Gallifrey?" asked Sam.

"I don't know the answer to that, honestly," answered Braxiatel, with that same gesture of the hand from earlier.

"Maybe he felt stifled," suggested Owen.

"That's a possibility," admitted Braxiatel.

"Can we see him again?" asked Sam.

"He isn't aware of the company, but you are free to do so," answered Braxiatel. "Gallifreyans are a telepathic race and we can sense, to a degree, what another is feeling or, sometimes, thinking." He saw the three human's eyes go wide in alarm. "But only with another member of a telepathic race – like another Gallifreyan." He continued with his explanation once they relaxed. "When I visited my brother I could only sense the disconnection and subconscious jumble of his sleeping mind – no awareness of me or anything around him, nor even of being in such a state. While the distance varied, depending on the depth of his induced slumber, he never came up out of his sleep enough to make connection with the outside world. In short, he's completely out of it and won't know, or know to care, that anyone is there. He's been sedated into an oblivion so complete he isn't even aware of himself. He can't dream, can't wake, and definitely cannot sense life around him and he's been drugged past the point of caring to do so."

"We'd still like to," said Martha.

Braxiatel nodded in understanding. "I know – I'm just trying to keep your hopes of him waking up from getting too high."

"It's probably better he sleeps," said Owen. "Given the condition he was in when we first found him."

"Very wise," agreed Braxiatel. "Come, I will show you back to him and then I am afraid the Time Lord High Council wishes to meet you in the Opticon."

* * *

Braxiatel had not been exaggerating. The Doctor was still very out of it and his condition had not changed at all. Martha and Owen talked with one of the medical personnel and discovered that none of them expected the Doctor to actually make a full recovery. They expected him to stay on Gallifrey at least until he regenerated again.

In fact, there were rumours that the Time Lord High Council was voting to ground his TARDIS and prevent him from leaving. Unlike when his brother had been exiled this wouldn't be done as punishment. He wouldn't want for anything and would have the full honours his position was due on Gallifrey, including the luxurious living arrangements a President of the Council, whether active or retired, would have. No Time Lord was immune to that allure and the Doctor was no exception – Braxiatel had checked himself on which stateroom his brother chose to live in on his TARDIS and had noted that he took the best the aging TARDIS had on board.

It was a position he aspired to have one day but he was more than satisfied with the increase of influence and prestige his brother had brought to their House when he had been elected twice into the Presidential office.

Little frail Theta in the most powerful role a Time Lord could have within his own society and one of the most powerful positions one could have outside of it. If the Lord President decided to he could literally bring enough political, and military, power on anyone or anything in both time or space and the various other societies and nations knew it.

* * *

Martha felt as if her Doctor – one of his regenerations later than this one – had glossed over a few crucial details such as the fact that he hadn't just been the Last of the Time Lords but also their very leader, if he had still held the position when the Time War started. She had no idea if he had but his sense of guilt about being the one to 'push the button' would make sense. It would certainly explain how he had come to be in possession of such a weapon. The other thing he had glossed over was how rich the Time Lords were. She had seen glimpses and hints in the TARDIS that perhaps the Doctor's 'galactic wandering hobo' act was just that.

When he had a fever after the whole living sun incident and also after recovering from the Year that Never Was, Martha had been inside his bedroom to help him. He had been too sick from the first to really remember it clearly but Martha's first reaction to the opulent state room had been one of a good one minute pause to look around. His bed was an ornate, almost steampunk gothic meets modern Star Trek, dark wooden canopy bed – not to mention it was indecently huge – and the bedding fine and soft to the touch. The coverlet had made her want to rub her cheek against it and his sheets had been just as soft but well made.

What was on Gallifrey itself made that stateroom look modest and small. The Doctor's bed on the TARDIS, if Earth measurements were applied, was likely considered a king sized bed. From what Martha could see the beds in their rooms on Gallifrey were even larger and perhaps a foot wider and longer. She had felt like child sleeping her parent's very luxurious bed.

She couldn't see the Doctor settling down – even if his health was failing – for a second. Despite what Gallifrey obviously offered it was all rather boring in comparison to what was out there for him.

He was an explorer not a bureaucrat.

Finally, with no great desire to, they left him to rest again and, with Baerila as their escort, made their way to the central spire and up to the inner room of the Panopticon where the High Council met. The Opticon was much smaller than the gigantic Panopticon where all the Time Lords met in a great council. In comparison the Opticon had only nine seats around a blunted oblong shaped table with a wide gap so that someone could stand in the centre. In the centre, behind the table, was an ornate high backed white and gold chair with two guards, also in white and gold on each side.

There was no one sitting in this chair, but in the chairs beside sat three officials in robes and ornate high collars. Each one wore a different colour scheme but all had one pearlescent white stripe of braid on their collars and in their robes, as well as gold.

The men, one of whom was Braxiatel in deep red and orange, wore skullcaps and the women, of which there were two – and the three humans recognized Thalia in their number and another woman in green – wore their hair in complex curls and whorls into which was woven jewelry and silk ribbons.

Another two men, not dressed nearly as ostensiously as the other six Time Lords, sat on the very outer edge closest to the entrance and farthest away from the central seat that was presumably meant for the Lord President.

It was intimidating as not a single person in the room was smiling, nor really giving away anything of any outward emotion at all. It was like the eight Gallifreyans were formed of marble and no more than living statues.

Martha and Sam could immediately see why the Doctor had left.

"Welcome to Gallifrey," began the woman in green. "I am Flaviacerlysandra, Chancellor of the Patrex Chapter of Time Lords, Acting President of the Council of Time Lords. I believe you have met two of my colleagues, Lord Braxiatelosialian, Chancellor of the Prydonian Chapter as well as Lady Thaliadvoraxatene, Chancellor of the Arcalian Chapter. The gentlemen you haven't yet met are Lord Borrelihintrelundar of the Cerulean Chapter, Lord Segeretenor of the Dromeian Chapter and Lord Lixionilisequetix of the Scendeles Chapter."

Sam, Owen and Martha looked at each other. Martha spoke for them, being the oldest of those who had traveled with any of the incarnations of the Doctor. "I am Dr. Martha Jones of UNIT on Earth, Dr. Owen Harper of Torchwood, also on Earth and this is Samantha Jones, who is from Earth but currently travels with the Doctor."

"UNIT?" said Thalia. "This is a familiar organization. Didn't the Doctor work with UNIT when he was exiled?"

The question was aimed more at Braxiatel and Flavia, and Flavia inclined her head in confirmation. "He indeed did as it was they who granted him refuge back then."

"Then you are welcome on Gallifrey," said one of the other men, who had been introduced as the Chancellor of the Cerulean Chapter with a name that Martha didn't relish learning... or trying to pronounce. "For ease..." There was a collective chuckle from the assembled Time Lords. "You may use the more familiar, shortened, version of our names. I am Lord Borrel."

"I take it that's why the Doctor doesn't use his actual name," said Sam.

"I imagine that's part of the reason," answered Braxiatel. "A major part of the reason, but only a part."

"Who is this Doctor?" asked Lord Lixionil.

"You would know him as Lord Arcathetasigemalian... and our current President," answered Thalia.

Sam and Martha looked at each with raised eyebrows and both of them decided then and there to at least try to learn how to pronounce the clumsy, if exotic, sounding real name of the Doctor. He'd probably not thank them for it considering he had never – not once – had even hinted at what his name was but it was too unique to forget forever. Martha couldn't wait until a certain regeneration in pinstripes heard it roll off her tongue and to see the look on his face to hear a name he probably thought long forgotten.

"I'm not even going to attempt to pronounce that," mused Owen.

"The shortened – everyday – form is Theta," said Braxiatel. "The full forms of our names are only ever used for formal and ceremonial occasions." He turned to the others. "Back to the business at hand. It has come to our attention that the Lord President has returned to Gallifrey, Flavia."

"I had noticed – however – I had also noticed that he is in no condition to take up the presidential mantle. Dr. Jones and Dr. Harper, what are your opinions on this?" asked Flavia.

"The Doctor... I mean Lord Theta is very ill and in the medical centre and for good reason. He has been placed in a deep, medically induced coma to allow his body to rest and recover from a severe blood infection as well as torture by means of starvation to the point of death. He's very weak and will likely be for a long time," answered Owen. "When he first arrived at Torchwood I seriously believed that he wouldn't survive the first day, let alone a week or regain consciousness. He did – and it was him who advised Dr. Jones to make contact with Gallifrey."

A long silence descended on the Council. "He was tortured?" asked Lord Segere. "By whom?"

"A terrorist organization bent on dominating a planet by manipulation the past to their favour. They captured us and tortured the Doctor," answered Sam.

"Was it through the President that they were able to manipulate Time?" asked one of the men at end of the table, one of the ones not introduced who jumped into the conversation before the other could.

"No, I don't believe so. It was their manipulation that attracted the Doctor's attention and brought us to the planet in question. It wasn't until after – when the Doctor tried to straighten the Time Lines that they captured him," answered Sam. "Mauvril tried to get him to betray his secrets but when he refused she had him tortured and then starved. When he was too weak to move and too sick to eat even if they were to feed him, she had him tied to a bed and she kept him alive – if barely – by IV."

There was a murmur of discontent from the Council, and Braxiatel had to remove himself for a few moments before order was restored and he returned, the anger in his eyes still apparent but his actions and voice tightly controlled. "I noticed that there were numerous signs of repeated tears on the insides of his arms and on the back of his hands which looks like the IV lines were removed."

"Mauvril tore them out in rage when he refused to do what she wanted. She would leave him for days, sometimes, after that as he would get progressively weaker until she returned and set the IV back up again," answered Sam. "He said that finally, when he could sense things changing, he tore the last one out to escape when the opportunity presented itself."

"_He_ escaped on his own?" asked Borrel in admiration. "Not rescued, but _escaped_?"

"Yes," answered Sam. "Escaped. I met up with him later but noticed how ill he looked even though he tried to hide it. He did for awhile. It wasn't until the celebrations later that he started to admit to feeling tired and a bit worn down. I took him back to his TARDIS and he collapsed... the TARDIS brought us to Dr. Jones and Dr. Harper at Torchwood where we've been for the past week while the Doctor, at first, looked like he was recovering before he declined again and Martha called you for your help."

"I believe if we want further details as to his treatment we will have to wait until we can ask him," pointed out one of the men at the end of the table. "The latest tests showed that his white blood cell count is starting to return to normal but he still is going to have a protracted recovery. I'm not happy with how low his nutrient levels are and how long it is taking them to recover."

With a start, the three humans realized that one of the men was the Surgeon General of Gallifrey himself, and the other – from the sound of him – more military. Neither had been introduced by name or role. The Doctor was under the surgeon general's direct care and the military general was more interested in the perceived attack on the President, whether or not Mauvril had known the Doctor was the Lord President of Gallifrey.

Flavia nodded her head. "I quite agree. Lord Braxiatel, do you object to guests in your House for awhile longer?"

"Of course not – they are welcome to stay as long as they wish to," he answered. "Besides, our apartments are closer to the Eastern Spire and the medical centre where my brother is."

"A valid point," admitted Thalia.

Flavia turned to the three humans. "Do forgive us, but we have matters of state to discuss and I'm sure you would find it rather dry. I will have Baerila escort you back to House Lungbarrow's apartments where you can retire for the evening."

* * *

This was a dismissal and they three humans found themselves walking back to the apartment behind Baerila. "Baerila," said Sam, and the Gallifreyan turned to face her. "Could we check in on the Doctor one more time? I know he can't hear us but I'd like to wish him good night anyway."

"Of course," said Baerila, and she led them there.

The Doctor still slept in the sensory tank, and Sam laid a hand on the tank closest to where one his hands floated and she then leaned her forehead on the glass. "I know you can't hear me but I came to say good night. Your brother is a very hospitable man. Please get better soon!"

Martha did the same after Samantha backed off. "Hey, mister, you'd better get better. You have a planet to show me around. You don't know it yet but you've promised me a tour."

The three of them allowed Baerila to lead them back to their suites where they sat down in exhaustion. "I feel like I've been up forever," said Sam.

"You will feel exhaustion," said Baerila. "Our days are equivalent to thirty two of your hours instead of the twenty four you are used to. If it makes you feel better, it is late in the evening by our clock, so you can retire for the night."

"At what time would a person normally get up in the morning?" asked Owen, practically flopping into one of the comfortable armchairs.

"Shortly after the first dawn, which will be in nine and a half spans," answered Baerila.

"So, nine and a half hours from now," mused Sam. "When would a person normally go to bed?"

"I will retire for the night in two and a half spans."

"So... six spans is the usual or just you?" asked Owen.

"It is average."

Martha looked over at Owen as they did the math. If a span was roughly the equivalent of a normal Earth hour, that meant that out of every thirty two hours a Gallifreyan slept for six or only just under one fifth of their day sleeping compared to a human which spent a third of each day sleeping if they slept for eight hours out of twenty four. That meant if a Gallifreyan, such as the Doctor, were to switch to an Earth cycle he would only need to sleep for four and a half hours out of every twenty four compared to human's eight.

However, because he was so ill he was spending all his time sleeping.

* * *

It didn't matter. She needed to sleep and so did the others so they each retired to their own rooms. Martha flopped into the middle of the massive bed, fully clothed and without drawing back the covers. Moments later she was startled by movement from a door she had not seen at all.

For a long moment, she stared in shock at the intruder who stared back at her in equal surprise. "I'm sorry, I didn't think you would notice. Normally our guests do not retire until much later," said the unfamiliar girl.

She was dressed plainly, but the fabric was well made and well cut in a deep red. "Who are you?" asked Martha.

For a long moment the girl thought about it. "That's the funny part, you see, I know my name but it doesn't make sense considering I've lived here all my life... I've been a handmaiden to the Doctor's sister for so long. They found me in their House one day... and I've never left."

"Do you have a name?" asked Martha.

"Clara," said the girl uncertainly, and then her eyes brightened. "I'm sure it's Clara. Clara Oswin."

"That... sounds human," said Martha, puzzled.

"That's what Innocet said."

"I'm sorry?"

"Lady Innocet... Lord Braxiatel and Lord Theta's elder sister," answered Clara. "She kept me around out of curiosity. Called me her good luck charm."

"And you have no idea how you got here?" asked Martha, sitting on the edge of the bed and motioning the human girl to do the same.

"That's the strange part – I don't remember how I got here or where exactly I come from. Innocet called me impossible. Impossible Girl... why does that sound so familiar..." mused Clara, but she shook her head. "Anyway, it's not important. I have a task and that task was to make sure your bed was turned down and it properly warmed so that when you went to bed it wouldn't uncomfortably cold. Innocet didn't think, even being human, that you would have been ready to retire just yet."

"She's here?" asked Martha in surprise.

"Of course – the news that the Doctor was back home reached the Estate within moments of his arrival. It just took a few hours to get here but we came straight away."

There was a sharp knock on the door and Baerila walked in. "I am sorry to... oh... Madam Clara."

"Sorry," said Clara as she stood up again.

Martha grasped her hand. "I'll talk to the Doctor when he wakes up. Maybe he can figure out your mystery."

"Thank you," said Clara as she rushed out the same way she had come in.

* * *

Martha followed Baerila out into the sitting area of the shared sleeping suites. A tall, dark haired woman with skin so pale it looked like milk stood in the centre of the room, Braxiatel was just a few steps behind her. She was dressed in robes of deep scarlet and gold trim. She flicked her brown eyes – eyes that reminded Martha of her Doctor – from one human to the next. "Which one of you were with my brother during that which caused him to be in the medical centre?"

This had to Innocet, mused Martha. She held herself like a queen and the way she spoke was with absolute authority, even though it was said kindly and mildly. "I was, my Lady," answered Sam.

"Come here, child," the Time Lady took off one of her gloves and held out her bare hand for Sam to take. Sam stepped forward timidly, not sure what that gesture meant, and reached out to take the Time Lady's hand. "May I see what you saw?"

"How?" asked Sam.

The woman waggled her fingers. "Time Lords are telepaths. With each other we are telepaths in a certain range, and intensely so by touch. With those who are not telepathic we need direct skin to skin touch to achieve the same result as we would in close range."

Sam's eyes widened, now recognizing the fact that the woman had taken off her glove and offered her bare hand – it was an intimate gesture and not offered lightly – and reached out to take her hand. The contact was sudden, and Sam felt a bit overwhelmed but Rylen was quick to soothe her fears.

_If you don't want me to see something, imagine it to be in a room with a door... and shut the door. I will respect your desire for privacy_, said Innocet telepathically.

Sam closed off everything but what she had seen when she found the Doctor after he had escaped from Mauvril. That moment she pushed to the front of her mind for Innocet to see immediately. She felt the ice cold flare of intense anger from the Time Lady at how her brother had been treated, but it was shoved behind a door as quickly as it had surfaced. With cool efficiency, Innocet sifted through her memories of the entire affair and felt the Time Lady's soothing touch to the rawest edges. The emotional relief at being forgiven for her actions was like a warm blanket over cold limbs and Sam felt tears prickle at her eyes.

In typical human fashion, while Innocet was walking through her memories, Sam had a sudden realization. If the Time Lords were telepathic at range, and intimately telepathic by touch... then what was with the Doctor's tendency to hold hands with his Companions? He was absolutely tactile compared to the other Time Lords and given what she knew now.

One thought came through her own and she recognized the psychic voice of Innocet as she said, with a bark of amused laughter, _Promiscuous brat, isn't he?_

_The Doctor?_ asked Sam.

_Indeed_, answered Innocet, and then pulled gently out of Sam's mind, dropping her hand away to glove it again after. "I have what I need to know. Thank you, Samantha Jones. I am sorry to have pulled you all out of your rest. I will properly make this up to you tomorrow morning over a proper breakfast, if you will honour me with your presence."

"Of course," said Martha.

The three of them watched the eldest of the Doctor's family leave and Braxiatel turned to them. "I think I'll want to know the same thing you showed her, Sam, if you're up to it tomorrow."

"Happy to help," said Sam.


	6. Chapter Five

**A/N:**Did someone say this was a fluffy story? Pfft, since when do I write fluffy stories, lol?

Quick run down: Brax is from the novel series and he a Curator type that likes to collect things. He even has his own museum called the "Braxiatel Collection" on an asteroid where he masquerades as a human Curator. His tendency to buy and collect things that would normally be permanently lost is a well documented fact. Also, he likes humans as much as his brother does but isn't as likely to admit it or be outward about it. He also had a huge, huge unrequited crush on Romana. And no, I did not capitalize the Curator on purpose at all... and I didn't squee at seeing the Curator during the 50th anniversary either...

Innocet is from the novel Lungbarrow. They called her a cousin, but then again they called everyone cousins.

Flavia is from the "Five Doctor's" 25th anniversary special.

I DO NOT KNOW THE DOCTOR'S REAL NAME - that's one of those really educated guesses, lol.

* * *

**CHAPTER FIVE**

The next morning the three humans were brought into a room that wasn't exactly a dining room but was not quite a living room. Innocet looked up at them and Martha noticed the Time Lady didn't look rested. Braxiatel wasn't there and Martha had a feeling that although they knew the Doctor was too out of it to know anyone was there that his siblings were taking turns sitting with him. "How is the Doctor?" asked Martha.

"Doctor who?" asked Innocet, and then she remembered. "Ah, yes, my little brother. He's still very ill, in critical condition. Has no idea where he is or which way is up or that he should even care that there is an up or a down. However, his blood tests are coming back better which means he will start to regain his strength soon."

"How long until he starts waking up?" asked Sam.

"Not for another four days," answered Innocet. "Surgeon General Gomer will assess his health and if he has regained his strength enough be brought out of his medically induced coma, and perhaps out of the sensory tank as well. He is responding well to the blood cleansing treatments and nutrient washes, which is good news. Lord Gomer did not expect him to bounce back quite so quickly, but he surmises that your treatment of him at Torchwood may have helped greatly."

Martha saw Owen breathe out a giant sigh of relief and Innocet lifted a brow. "You were worried?"

"I was horrifying worried that I might have made things worse," admitted Owen. "Or in the least I believed I had at least managed to keep him from drying but not that I had done any actual good."

"You were the first one to respond?"

"I was," answered Owen. "Dr. Jones unfortunately did not arrive for another day."

"Then it is you I have to thank for saving my brother's life, Dr. Harper. Your quick thinking saved him from death; I have no doubt of that." Innocet was plain, and she looked at both of the human doctors. "Once you arrived, you both worked together tirelessly to heal someone as alien to you as you are to us." She turned back to the cup in her hand and motioned for them to join her. "Come, sit with me and have breakfast."

They did and moments later Clara entered the room with a tray in her hands. She set it down on one of the small end tables. One the tray was a decanter and four more cups. Clara took Innocet's cup and refilled it from the steaming decanter and then filled the other four cups and handed them out. Sam and Martha knew from experience that Time Lords did not normally eat upon waking. Daytime meals were scant and few between, if the Doctor's habits were any indication and finally the light nibbling through the day was broken with one, larger, evening meal.

It appeared that it was a Gallifreyan habit and not just something the Doctor happened to do because his frenetic lifestyle demanded it. Martha sipped what was in the cup and was surprised to note that it was sweet with a spicy pepper like kick, and also a great deal thicker than milk although it had the texture of milk – perhaps like a warmed custard not left to set but drank in cups before it was given the chance to set? The flavour was not unpleasant but it did not taste like anything she had ever tasted before and she sincerely hoped that it was not toxic to humans like aspirin was to Gallifreyans. Innocet saw her hesitation. "It's as harmless to humans as it is to us."

"What is it?" asked Sam, curiously as she accepted a second cup of it.

"Cadon berries," answered Innocet simply.

"This is the juice of a berry?" asked Owen eyeing the inside of the cup.

"And the greenest tips of the leaves." Innocet turned down a third helping. "The entire plant, once mature, is harvested. We use the seeds to plant the next generation."

They sat there and drank their breakfast in peace and quiet, noticing that Clara sat quietly among them doing the same. "Clara..." began Martha.

Innocet looked up and then over to her charge, placing a hand under Clara's chin and tipping towards her. "Ah yes, my little mystery. She's not normally this quiet." Innocet raised an eyebrow. "In fact she's what you humans call spunky."

"I just like to speak my mind, if that's all right," answered Clara with a roll of her eyes. "It just didn't seem like a good time to do so."

"It's quite all right – it's why you're my handmaiden," answered Innocet. "Other than the whole you appeared when my little brother was eight and all but on top of him."

"Excuse me, did you just say she landed on the Doctor?" asked Sam.

"Wouldn't go that far," said Clara with a shrug. "I just remember walking through a garden and there he was; all pale and shivering in a heap under this tree by the river. I didn't know who he was or what he was, or where I was, but all I knew was that if I didn't pick him up and run to the house in the distance then this poor little boy was going to die. I didn't think it would matter... he was so sick and I could feel the fever running through me from him."

Innocet looked at Clara, something akin to respect in her eyes. "If not for Clara we would have no idea that Theta had fallen ill and by the time we would have known to look for him he would have been too far gone."

"As it was I sat by his bedside for months trying to keep the poor tyke's spirits up," said Clara.

Martha clued into something rather vital immediately. "You're human?"

"Well, yes," answered Clara. "The rest of that story is that after I saved the little boy, Innocet here swore to find where my home was and return me there. But I can't remember... I know my name and I can remember bits and pieces but I can't remember how I came to be here or what came before. I just remember a golden tear full of golden floating motes of light and knowing I had to save the Doctor."

"You had to what?!" asked Martha in surprise. "Before he was even the Doctor, you had to save him? From what?"

"I don't know," answered Clara.

"It was this that led Braxiatel and I to put Clara into temporal stasis, to be woken when we figured out that little puzzle," answered Innocet. "Hundreds of years later, after my little brother left Gallifrey with his granddaughter, and after his capture and trial we discovered he had taken to calling himself the Doctor; Braxiatel put the pieces of the puzzle together – Clara is from our dear brother's future and the tear she describes is his time line. For whatever reason she enters his time line to 'save him' and that brought her back to Gallifrey and at the very moment he needed to be found... and rescued. In essence she saved him."

"You woke me for that," said Clara, who wrinkled her nose. "But it didn't change anything."

"I presumed that because Clara couldn't recognize him and it didn't jog her memory at all that it wasn't time yet," answered Innocet. "I've woken her a few times and, while she has not recognized my brother her actions have had some... interesting effects on his life particularly when he returns to Gallifrey."

Clara looked at them again with a sad look in her eyes. "Innocet woke me again recently when you brought him back here, hoping that maybe this time the mystery would be solved."

"And?"

Clara shook her head. "It's not clearer now than it was back then."

"Does he know this?" asked Sam.

Innocet shook her head. "No, not in so many details. He remembers a human girl who was kind to him when he was little but like humans a Gallifreyan's memory of childhood is buried under other memories a bit fuzzy. It's been far too long for him to remember her clearly."

"So, that's it then?" asked Sam, horrified. "You're just going to put her back into the time stasis thing and wait until he comes back again and maybe... what if it never makes sense?"

"I've asked Innocet to let me live my life," answered Clara. "I've had enough of waiting for the impossible, enough of losing time. If I die before I learn why it had to be, then that's okay because who I could have possibly known are all long dead by now and I can't remember them anymore anyway. Gallifrey is my home now and this is my life."

The three other humans looked at Innocet who nodded her head in confirmation. "She now works as my handmaiden which is a role she is very good at. She's very organized and able to keep me well in hand. She is assertive but also able to balance that with her manners and positive attitude."

"What if you came back to Earth?" asked Owen.

"What would I do there that I can't do here?" asked Clara. "I don't see what difference it would make except now I have people here and a life."

They let the matter rest, for now, but Martha was still horrified that this girl was effectively stuck outside of where she ought to be. However, there was no way to find where she belonged if even the Time Lords with their ability to walk through memories couldn't discover her secret.

A few moments later, a very exhausted looking Braxiatel walked in and helped himself to the cadon berry drink using a crystal glass on a sideboard. "Mhm... oh... Clara... I see Innocet has brought you along. I thought I recognized how this was put together."

"You look terrible," pointed out Clara. "Did you sleep at all last night?"

"No," answered Braxiatel honestly. "The Council is moving to permanently ground Theta. His TARDIS will be formally decommissioned and the AI moved to another shell."

"Who made that suggestion?" asked Sam, dread settling into her bones.

"I did," answered Braxiatel, and he held up his hand to prevent the others from jumping him. "I did so for two reasons. The first is that he is our President and has responsibilities here. If he had not wanted to remain the President then he should have resigned and allowed for a successor. He did not. The second is his health has always been shaky and this latest drama proves that he's too frail to travel. For his own sake he should remain on Gallifrey within easy reach of our medical professionals and to retire peacefully as the Elder Time Lord he is."

Innocet didn't dispute either reason but she could see how much this unsettled the humans. Martha in particular looked spooked. "What's wrong?" asked Braxiatel.

"If you ground him he will never meet me. Much of what has to happen will never happen," said Martha. "If I never meet him I will not have anything to do with Torchwood... I will not be there to help Owen figure out his unique physiology."

"Dr. Harper figured things out on his own," said Innocet.

"I would not have been able to call for help from Gallifrey... not to mention Jack. He'd never have found himself in Cardiff. Torchwood would not be the same as it is now," explained Martha. "From what I understand a future version of the Doctor is who helped form Torchwood. No Doctor means no Torchwood."

The two Time Lords blinked and Braxiatel sighed heavily. "Well, perhaps he will leave us anyway despite our efforts. I can move to deny Lord Segere's motion to decommission the TARDIS and hiding her where they won't look is easy," pointed out Braxiatel. "What my brother does later is his own concern. Mine is doing what I must to protect him."

Martha relaxed marginally, as did Owen. Sam looked a bit neutral. "You don't seem upset by this as much as they do," pointed out Clara.

"I think I'm the same mind as you, Clara," admitted Sam. "I miss home but I really don't have much to go home to other than the idea of home. I could settle here with the Doctor as easily as I could anywhere else."

"When does the Council reconvene?" asked Clara.

"Not until later tonight," he answered.

"Then go lay down for awhile and get some sleep," she said as she prodded him outside of the room and disappeared with him.

Innocet stood and gathered up the cups until Baerila reappeared and took the task from her. She then turned to the three humans. "I am..." she was cut off when Baerila came running back into the room. "What's the matter?"

"There's been an assassination attempt on Lord Theta's life!" she exclaimed.

The room seemed to drop in temperature. "Attempt means not successful," breathed Innocet. "How is my brother now?"

"He still lives – but Surgeon General Gomer was injured to the point of regenerating," answered Baerila. "He's resting comfortably but can tell the Guard nothing."

"Let me guess, the Guard and Chancellor Faerilx of said Guard is waiting to talk to me or Braxiatel." Innocet sighed and made a sweeping gesture with her hand. "Bring them in here, Baerila."

Moments later a robed man in black and another one that wasn't dressed in the long formal robes but in dark brown trousers and a sandy coloured loose tunic style tight knit top gathered at the waist by a wide belt that looked almost woven closed that under than was a high necked red long sleeved jumper and matching gloves that fit his hands like a second skin. He wore a headset that also served as a heads up display. It reminded Martha of the new Google glass only over one eye instead of two and like someone crossed that with a blue tooth headset. The other thing she noticed that he was armed with a pistol that she could see and every so often, as he moved, she could tell that he was armed with other weapons as well under the sandy tunic. "I am Chancellor Faerilx, and this is Investigator Arcatheil. The investigator will be leading the investigation under my direct supervision."

"A pleasure, Lady Innocet," said Arcatheil.

"We will help as much as possible, but Baerila only just told us now. I am afraid there is not much we could tell you," explained Innocet.

"Perhaps you know more than you think – we are exploring all avenues of motive to find the attacker," explained Arcatheil. "I would prefer to talk to all of you on a one on one basis."

"Of course," said Innocet.

"I will remain with the others while you start with the first one," suggested Faerilx.

"Thank you, sir," Arcatheil motioned to Martha first. "Madam, if you could come with me."

Martha followed the younger Gallifreyan out into the hall and he stopped her there as he opened a door and led them inside, scanning the room before nodding to himself in satisfaction. "This should do," he said and then he set up a device on the table. "Please, make yourself comfortable. I am hoping this will not take long."

"What do you need to know?" asked Martha.

"First, state your name and planet of origin."

"Dr. Martha Jones, Earth."

"How do you know Lord Theta?" he asked amiably.

"I travelled with him for a time," she answered. "Only not this him – a future him. Our time lines are crossed. The one in the medical centre is a younger version of the one I know."

"So former Companion by your reckoning but future Companion by his," he clarified.

Martha nodded, taking in the room she was in at the same time. "Yes."

"Where were you when Lord Theta was attacked?" asked Arcatheil.

"As far as I know I was in the apartments, possibly taking breakfast with Innocet," answered Martha. "You haven't told when exactly he was attacked and I can't tell you exactly what was I doing or where I was if I don't know when it all happened."

"A valid point," admitted the investigator and Martha got the feeling, in a rather different way of asking, that it had been the point.

Gallifreyan questioning was a whole lot more circular in nature and often, she got the feeling, that one question asked a certain way would get a multitude of answers for the investigators. "Has anything happened of late that would change people's minds about him?"

"Other than being on the planet and the apparent motion to have him grounded?" asked Martha and he nodded. "Then no. Not that I know of. As I said, it's all very new to me."

"I imagine it must be," he said. "What has been your impressions of Gallifrey so far?"

Martha turned to look at him with an appraising glance. "Both more and less than I expected from what the Doctor told me about it before."

The investigator paused for a moment and a look of chagrin crossed his features before it was carefully schooled away again. "Oh?"

"I was expecting it to be so different from Earth – and it is but it's very much the same," she answered. "Your technology is thousands of years ahead of ours and the interfaces are different. Your race is telepathic and mine has rumours of latent ability, but they're only rumours... tales... and half your technology's interfaces are meant for it. I'd never be able to use half of what you have simply because I can't interface with it properly. Your architecture is alien to me, but the overall purpose is the same. Homes, families, places of work and day to day life and the support of it."

"Part of the reason is that, outwardly, we do not look so different," he pointed out gently. "I imagine that is why so many of our people find Earth and humanity so fascinating. There is this whole other world so far away from us and so much younger than us. We look the same on the outside and, as you said, the purpose of the buildings are the same even if they look different. As I understand it we did not even evolve from the same beginning creature and yet look at us; we look the same and our biochemistry is the similar enough to share food, some of the same medicines and medical treatments, and other... similarities." He reached out and brushed her lower arm and Martha looked in his eyes and saw curiosity there. "Under your clothes you are the same as us but under the skin... it's different. Intoxicating so... I work with Andred and I never understood why he is so taken with Leela but I am beginning to understand..."

He pulled away sharply while clearing his throat and Martha did the same as she retreated back to the neutral side the room. It just so happened that there was a ruckus outside the room and he swore; the word harsh and in Gallifreyan but Martha knew a swear when she heard one. He opened the door and a tall woman dressed the same as him pushed the door open forcibly at the same time. "Arcatheil," she greeted coolly.

"Leela... I had a feeling you'd show up."


	7. Chapter Six

**PART TWO: THE GALLIFREYAN PRESIDENT**

**CHAPTER SIX**

Leela looked from Arcatheil to Martha and back again. "He has not hurt you?" asked the other woman. "For all of their words they still have a certain brutality when it comes to getting information out of people."

Martha's eyebrows rose in alarm as she whirled towards the investigator. He held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I don't subscribe to some of my brethren's method of interrogation."

Leela was still glaring at him and he sighed. "I was finished anyway." He waved both of them off. "My attempts to keep you all separated in order to not compromise the validity of the case seems to have been properly and utterly thrown out the window."

Martha left the room with Leela and followed her back into the common room where a row from hell seemed to be breaking loose. "Our locations are all accounted for!" bellowed Braxiatel from inside the room. "You should be more concerned on who would attack my brother and what that could mean!"

They stepped inside the room and Chancellor Faerlix and Braxiatel were standing nose to nose, their arms crossed and their expressions pinched ones of anger. "I am trying to do just that, Lord Braxiatel. But I cannot while the principles of proper investigation are being outright thwarted." Faerlix responded.

"Were that the case, Chancellor, you would have dispatched someone here immediately upon being informed of the security breach in my brother's ward and his subsequent attack on his person," answered Innocet calmly from the same seat she had been in when they had breakfasted together.

The Chancellor turned to Innocet with an expression that was a mix between exasperation and frustration. Martha was wondering the same thing as Innocet, quite frankly. There was a degree of discomfort in the room until Leela broke the silence. "For all your supposed ability you only prove that you're not the right person for the job. You reacted too slow."

Andred looked over at his wife thoughtfully. "She has a point. This should have been addressed immediately not hours later."

"I was appointed to this position by the Inner Council itself!"

"And it can be a position removed from you if you show yourself unready for the position," came Thalia's voice from behind him as she entered the room with Flavia not too far behind. "I find myself wondering if you are, indeed, ready. You are an able administrator, but perhaps the mantle of Chancellor of the Guard was ill suited."

The Chancellor seemed mildly deflated but admitted, "I had pointed that out."

"Perhaps you should return to your actual posting as administrative lead instead of investigative and leave that task to those who are more front line?" suggested Flavia.

"The fact that it involves the Lord President suggests a more hands on approach," he retorted.

"Yes, but not as an investigator," suggested a third voice and Braxiatel actually smiled when he spotted the former Chancellor of the Guard, Spandrell. "Your role is more of watching over and keeping on top of their reports – not being the front line yourself."

"Spandrell," said Faerlix. "From what hole did they dig you up? I had heard that you had retired to a more private and perhaps less governmental role."

"I had," answered Spandrell honestly. "As more of a private investigator. Considering I have been able to maintain a modest apartment here in the upper levels of the Capitol I think that speaks well of my abilities and my typical clientele."

"And who hired you this time?" asked Andred, puzzled.

"I did," answered Braxiatel. "The minute I heard my brother had been attacked."

Everyone turned to stare at Braxiatel. "You hired a civilian – not even a Time Lord – and a civilian to investigate this?" the Chancellor's voice was quiet and too calm.

"When it came clear that you had no intention of striking while the iron was hot, so to speak, I did what needed to be done within all legal limits to protect my House and those within," answered Braxiatel plainly.

"I am under strict orders that I am to fully cooperate with the Guard and not interfere with your investigation," pointed out Spandrell. "But if I notice something peculiar I am to use my full abilities to chase down that lead. You know me, Faerlix, and you know my methods. You, too, have called on my skills."

Faerlix finally conceded. "Fine, we do this your way. But not as some Earth cliche, Spandrell. I'm taking you out of retirement and putting you back on the roll."

Spandrell nodded his agreement. "Then we are agreed."

"And, seeing as you're determined to lead this, it's also your case. Arcathiel?" Faerlix looked over to the other Guard.

"Yes, sir?"

"You're with Spandrell."

Faerlix stalked out of the room and left. Thalia moved to let him go lest she be ran over by him and she shook her head. "We chose unwisely on that one," she pointed out.

"An error easily fixed at the end of this," sighed Flavia. "Now, for more important matters – were they able to get to the Doctor?"

"No," answered Arcathiel. "His condition is unchanged."

"I am going to check on him," said Innocet decisively.

"Alone, Innocet?" Braxiatel shook his head. "No. Absolutely not."

"I will go with her," stated Leela. "If anyone wishes to harm the Doctor's family they'll have to go through me first."

Braxiatel sighed, knowing he was defeated. He didn't even bother to look over at Andred who was likely more amused than anything else at his wife's ability to simply do before thinking. Leela was a woman of actions and instinct but her intuition was very rarely wrong. Braxiatel knew this and had seen this in action and he was not about to get in her way once her mind had been made up. The easiest – and least painful – thing to do would be to work around what Leela did or said. At least her loyalties were clear and firmly with the Doctor and having anything to do with him.

Martha didn't know any of this, but she sure as hell wasn't going to be left out and knowing the Doctor had been attacked she needed to see the Doctor herself, so she followed the other two women.

A very short and quick walk later they found themselves in the Doctor's private room where he still lay deeply in his induced coma. Innocet sighed and, once all other Gallifreyans were out of the room she leaned her head on the glass of the tank. "He seems all right," said Martha. "All things considered."

"Thank Rassilon," murmured Innocet as she moved away from the glass, leaving one hand on it as if for comfort. She turned back to the glass suddenly. "What the..?"

The Doctor's eyes were open and he was looking around. "No, no, brother, calm yourself," said Innocet as she turned back to the tank. "Listen to me – both with your ears and without. Calm... shh... that's it." The Doctor calmed but it was clear that he was awake and a good few days ahead of when he was supposed to be. "You're in a sensory tank and as good as it is to see you awake you still need rest."

Innocet stopped, and Martha realized that the Doctor was likely talking to his sister telepathically. "Everyone is fine, stop worrying yourself – you'll only strain yourself..." She stopped again for a few moments and then took a breath. "Can you remember what they looked like... right... everything is blurry from inside the tank you wouldn't be able to point them out." Again there was another exchange. "You just stop... let us handle this. Go back to sleep. It's too early for you to even be awake." Another pause and Innocet actually laughed. "Oh shut up, you are so not 'fine' so don't even pull that with me. Now be quiet and sleep."

For another long moment Innocet was quiet and then she smiled and pulled away from the tank. "He's fallen asleep again."

"He's all right?" asked Leela.

"He's fine," answered Innocet. "All things considered. As usual more concerned about us than for himself."

* * *

Samantha Jones didn't have much else to do other than sit and watch everyone else. She had always been good at observing people and this was no exception. She could tell that Braxiatel was seriously concerned about his brother and upset at Faerlix's idiocy. As much as Braxiatel could be rather formal and proper she found him warm and welcoming under than cool exterior. He kept his enthusiasm under the surface and far enough below the layers of propriety and logic that the others would not spot it but it came out during select moments.

Andred was like Arcathiel, both in manner and background. They didn't look anything alike and from what she understood they only knew each other because of their work so they weren't related or friends. She was sure there were other differences but right now the most important thing was what made them the same.

Both had a drive to make sure the investigation was done right and that whomever had attacked the Doctor was caught. They both had an acute eye for detail and the ability to take one and one and come up with two quickly, and they both had a strong sense of justice.

Spandrell was like them, but also far more calculating. The two younger men were excellent investigators but Spandrell also had the ability to organize teams of investigators as well as be the front line himself. He also had a keen ability to read people without the benefit of telepathy although he also had that, like all Gallifreyans, to lean on as well.

So it was with great surprise when Spandrell walked over to her. "And you are?"

"Samantha Jones, sir," she answered.

"Samantha Jones," he repeated, as if mentally taking note of it. "You're from Earth like Dr. Harper and Dr. Jones. Any relation to the latter?"

"No sir, just coincidence that we share the same surname," she answered.

"Interesting." He thought for a moment. "What is your take on all of this?"

"Uh..." It wasn't the most eloquent answer, but he had now and truly taken her by surprise. "Sir, if I may be so bold..."

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want the answer," he answered with a grin, and there was a bit of a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"Well, sir, it feels like this was a distraction," she answered.

"Really?" His brows lifted in surprise. "What makes you think that?"

"If they truly wanted the Doctor... excuse me... the Lord President of Gallifrey dead then he would be – there isn't nearly enough guard in the medical centre or near the President like a normal presidential wing," she answered, and then swallowed as she looked around as if suddenly realizing where she was. "At least... that's how it's shown on all that American TV back on Earth. The security around him is always so tight that if someone were to somehow get past it with the real intent of harm then it gets done otherwise it was all some sort of distraction and he was never in any danger at all..."

Braxiatel turned to the younger woman and asked, "How do the humans survive with all that drama?"

"She means on the telly," explained Owen, but he realized that the Gallifreyans still didn't understand. He sighed heavily. "Telly, TV, or television is often a medium used for storytelling on Earth. Televised screen plays – works of fiction – played out on screen by actors using props and special effects to help cause a suspension of reality. At least in the purpose she means."

"This television has other purposes than this, yes?" asked Braxiatel.

"Quite, it's often also used to quickly relay news and current events, advertisements... the such..."

The two humans were surprised when Spandrell interrupted his explanation with a hearty gaffaw. "I think this Earth is far closer to Gallifrey than we originally had been led to believe. We, too, have such broadcasts. However, our 'plays' are more often experienced live or through holographic means with a slightly telepathic tinge," he explained. "I am beginning to understand the draw this Earth has on certain members of our own society. But we digress from the matter at hand. I think our young Samantha Jones is onto something here."

"Such as?" asked Arcathiel.

"Such as the perpetrator knew the Doctor would be here and what condition he is in although it has been kept quiet which limits who had knowledge and contact. We have that as a starting point. I also do not believe they meant him any real harm and it is as Ms. Jones suggests – a distraction," explained Spandrell as he turned back to them all.

"Who knew he was here?" asked Andred.

"That is a list that I believe you and Arcathiel shall have to compile." Spandrell looked at the two men. "I believe that was a rather strong hint on your next course of action and perhaps how quickly you both should start?"

The two younger Gallifreyan men practically jumped at his tone. "Yes sir!" exclaimed Andred, relieved for something to do.

Arcathiel gave a quiet salute and followed him out. Braxiatel looked over to Spandrell. "I have to say that having you back in your old role is a relief. Faerlix is too much a politician than he is a ral investigator."

"Some would say that is an improvement over my old methods, Lord Braxiatel," mentioned Spandrell quietly. "And I am not officially back, if you recall. Faerlix has not yet been ousted from his position until the High Council makes it so and you, Flavia and Thalia are only half. The only person who can tip that into my favour without the support of the full High Council lies in the medical centre."

"I am sure he would," mentioned Braxiatel.

"Yes, but he has to be conscious and healthy enough to stand in Council to do so," pointed out Spandrell, and then he sighed. "I will report back once we have learned more." He turned to leave but then turned back as if something had occurred to him. "Lord Braxiatel, would you mind terribly if I borrowed Samantha Jones from you?"

"I don't mind, but it would be better to ask her yourself," answered Braxiatel.

Spandrell looked over at the young human woman. She nodded and followed him out. Spandrell led her up a few levels to an office where more of the guard worked. Much to her amusement she noted that while they might call it something else a police station was still very much a police station even if Spandrell seemed more the investigative type than frontline patrol.

She followed him and took a page from the Doctor – she acted as if she belonged at Spandrell's right hand and everyone mostly either ignored how out of place she was or assumed that she belonged with him. Most of the attention was on him anyway. The minute he walked into the guard house she could feel the snapping of something in the air.

Intellectually Sam accepted the fact that all Gallifreyans were at some level telepathic and the Time Lords a bit more than that but to see the non verbal cues go between them was something else. It was cool. She wasn't able to hear what was being said between them but she could tell by sheer facial expression alone and what was in the eyes that Spandrell being back was momentous.

Spandrell did not walk around like he needed permission to. He simply walked to where he needed to be and Samantha had to almost jog to keep up with his longer legs.

They entered a room and Spandrell walked up to the woman sitting behind the desk. "I need all the information and data you have regarding the attack on the Lord President and Surgeon General."

She blinked, but didn't seem that surprised. "Spandrell. I was under the impression that you had retired."

"I had – but I have been contracted to investigate this case under the authority of House Lungbarrow," he answered.

That did seem to surprise her. "Lord Braxiatel commissioned you?" she asked in surprise.

"He has."

"Then I can't help you – much as I'd like to." She looked back down to the monitor set into her desk. "It involves the Office of the Lord President and such matters requires Presidential clearance... not House clearance."

"It regards Lord Theta of House Lungbarrow," pointed out Sam.

"Who is the Lord President. In order of proper precedence the Presidential Office comes first," she answered. "Do you have his commission?"

Sam had a sudden epiphany and grinned. "I'm his current travelling Companion on his TARDIS."

Spandrell raised an eyebrow, impressed with her quick thinking. The other woman sighed. "Which is more personal and not Presidential, which..."

"Is House Lungbarrow and not Presidential," sighed Spandrell heavily. "Who currently has Presidential power in his incapacity?"

"Lady Flavia does," answered the data administrator. "If you had her permission..."

Spandrell grinned. "Delia, I think you should have been promoted long ago for knowing when to be helpful and when not to be."

"Rassilon, no!" she said in horror. "I'm exactly where I need and want to be."


End file.
